What goes around
by Queenhaq
Summary: They started off as coworkers, then became friends, and are now lovers.  What happens when one wants to take the next step forward but the other is too afraid to take the chance? Arthur/Ariadne.
1. Chapter 1

Their first date is a complete disaster.

Arthur takes her to a posh restaurant where the atmosphere is stifling, the waiter stares at her disapprovingly because she's dressed in casual attire, and the servings are less than adequate. She spends most of dinner quietly drinking her wine (delicious wine – the one positive thing about this place) to drown out all the pretentious bullshit Arthur's spouting, and counting the minutes until they can finally leave.

Shortly after, she makes him stop at a McDonald's drive-thru. While she finishes off her hamburger and fries, he shakes his head exasperatedly and tells her how bad the stuff is for her. Her only response is a cheeky grin.

Later that night he gives her a chaste peck on the cheeks. She finally has enough of his courteous act and pulls him closer for a kiss.

He fucks her against the wall, makes her beg for it. Tonight was supposed to be his night to charm her, take her out on a proper date, but she screwed up his plans and now he intends to make her pay.

He's quick, hard, rough with her – just the way she likes it. Arthur's teeth leaves bruises on her shoulders, and her nails draw blood from his back.

She can't get enough of him when his cool exterior cracks allowing her a peek into his raw and volatile nature. While 'date' Arthur was poised, in control, and on a mission to impress her with money and sophistication, the Arthur she wants doesn't treat her like a fragile doll. He trusts her with his life, dreams the impossible with her. The real Arthur cracks lewd jokes when others aren't around and makes her laugh until her stomach hurts.

Ariadne isn't foolish enough to believe _her _Arthur is perfect. He's not. He's arrogant, infuriating, a workaholic, and has a stubborn streak that rivals her own. He may taunt her until it drives her absolutely mad – like he is right now – but she wouldn't have him any other way.

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An hour later they're inside her apartment, their clothes strewn all around them while they lie on the floor. Her chin is propped up on his chest, their legs intertwined. She's tracing patterns on his skin, and his fingers slowly thread through her hair, pulling the strands tightly once in a while so he can hear her grumble.

"You can't stay the night," she reminds him, yawning.

"And you sound like a broken record. It's not very attractive."

"Whatever."

His lips graze her forehead tenderly before he sits up and gathers his clothes together. The fact that she looks disappointed with his quick acceptance of her request makes him want to chuckle but he maintains his cool composure and continues to dress. After all, it serves her right.

From time to time Ariadne feels the need to remind him of the rules they've set for their relationship which includes not spending the night at each others places. It's starting to irritate him since he's fully aware that what they share is casual, they're free to see/fuck other people. He wonders if Ariadne even realizes she usually brings 'the rules' up when she's feeling overly sentimental towards him. While he would really enjoy pointing this out to her, he suspects she won't be very appreciative of the information.

"Are you okay to drive home?" she asks. "Maybe you should stay for a while. Let the buzz wear off."

She's settled on the floor with her chin resting in her hands, naked, staring up at him with concern; he tries not to let it show how much he's enjoying this. "I'm not the one who polished off a bottle of wine," he reminds her, buttoning his shirt up.

"I was on a horrible date. Wine was the only way I could get through it."

"Wow. That bad, huh?"

"The worst," she grins.

"He must have been a real jerk."

She waves her legs in the air playfully. "He took me to this really snotty restaurant."

"That was recently rated one of the best in the city," he reminds her, slipping his shoes on.

"And he just kept going on and on about modern poets."

"What an asshole."

"I thought so too but then he gave me his ice cream cone after I dropped mine."

"Really?"

"Yeah. That's when I realized he wasn't all that bad."

"Maybe you should give him another chance."

"I'm thinking about it."

Arthur kneels down to give her a quick kiss on the lips. She yelps with surprise when he also smacks her butt lightly. "I'll call you."

He can feel her eyes on him, watching him hungrily as he walks to the door. He smiles. She's almost ready to fold – fuck the rules – and he's eagerly anticipating the moment when it happens.

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"I'm pregnant," Ariadne announces dramatically, stepping inside his office and shutting the door behind her.

Arthur briefly glances at her before turning his attention back to work. "Oh. Is it mine?"

She grins. Of course he isn't going to fall for it, he probably knows her cycle better than _she _does. "I think this is when you get down on one knee and propose," she teases.

"How about I give you some money to take care of it instead?"

"Asshole."

"Bitch."

Even though he appears irritated by her presence, she knows it's an act. Part of their game. The folder whose contents he was studying now rests forgotten in his hands - his eyes are too busy following her every move intently as she saunters over to his side of the desk. The intensity of his gaze makes her stomach quiver, sets a rush of adrenaline surging through every vein in her body.

Arthur makes her feel as alive and exhilarated as the first time Cobb took her into his dreams and showed her all the possibilities of the dream world. A whole new world opened up for her then, one she never even imagined, and she didn't think that feeling could ever be replicated. But here she is now, experiencing the same kind of rush. Too bad she could never tell Arthur that. He would mock her to no end.

She grabs the folder from his hands, throws it to the floor, and forcefully straddles him. He responds with a resigned sigh.

"I'm taking you out tonight," she murmurs, peppering his face with soft kisses.

"And why would you do that?"

"Because you've been gone for a month and I missed you."

She didn't realize how accustomed she'd grown to his presence in her life until he was gone. Truthfully, this necessity for him terrifies her.

"Is this your way of apologizing?" he asks.

"For what?"

"Picking a ridiculous fight with me before I left."

"That was four weeks ago. I've already forgotten it."

"I haven't."

"Let me make it up to you tonight."

She tries to kiss him but he pulls away.

"I can't. I have a date."

His words hit her like a ton of bricks. She's sitting astride his lap, stunned. At first she thinks (hopes) he's kidding, continuing their regular charade, but then Arthur leans back in his chair, observing her with a level of detachment she's never seen in him, and she realizes he's not.

"A date?" she repeats, grateful that her voice comes across as unaffected and not at all reflecting how she actually feels.

"Yes."

"You just got back this morning."

"I met her before I left. We've been talking since then."

Ariadne's suddenly so angry she can't even breathe. He called _her _only once while he was gone and that was to inform her he had another job lined up which he would need her help with. And whenever Ariadne contacted him, he was always too busy to talk. But, apparently, he had all the time in the world to converse with this other girl.

"I hope you don't have a problem with this," he says.

It hurts more than she thought capable of. She feels betrayed. Jealous. A moment ago she was happy and content and now she's sick to her stomach.

"We both wanted this to be casual, right?" he continues, peering at her.

For a second she spots an amused glint in his eyes but it dissolves so quickly she thinks she imagined it. She desperately hopes she was. Because she doesn't want to be in love with someone who could enjoy inflicting pain on her. And if that's the type of guy Arthur is, then what does it say about her?

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"I'm fine. Have a good time tonight."

It takes every bit of effort she has but she manages to put on a smile, turn around, and walk out of his office with her dignity intact.


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm thinking of taking up matchmaking as a second profession."

Arthur sends Eames an irritated glance before turning his attention back to the laptop in front of him. It's pointless to hope Eames would leave after that proud declaration. As expected, he doesn't. Instead Eames strolls over and takes the seat across from Arthur's desk. Except he doesn't just sit. Eames does what he usually does and turns it into a big dramatic production. He leans back in his chair, links his fingers together behind his head, and props his legs up on the table. His criss-crossed feet are settled directly on top of Arthur's leather-bound notebook. Resisting the urge to hurl something at Eames, Arthur pulls the notebook from under his feet and swipes the dust away. "So now you're a pimp? Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"Interested in my services?" Eames asks, smirking.

"No thanks. I do fine on my own."

"Half-off for the first girl. You're not going to get a better deal than that."

"I doubt you have what I want."

"A frigid blonde that likes to play dead?"

"Wrong. I prefer it when they fight back."

Eames chuckles. "Your tastes have changed."

"Don't get your hopes up. You'll never be my type."

"And what would that be? A short brunette with a penchant for scarves?"

Arthur's smile stiffens. Maybe it was foolish to assume no one else knew about his relationship with Ariadne. Arthur didn't particularly care either way but Ariadne was adamant about keeping them a secret. But deeming from the wicked twinkle in Eames' eyes, their ruse didn't work.

"I'm busy, Eames. Why are you here?"

"I think I'll have some cards printed up. Pink for the ladies and a nice blue hue for the lads."

"I don't have time for this."

"Never let it be said I haven't done you any favours."

"Meaning?"

Eames gets up from his chair, walks to the door, and turns around one last time to smirk at Arthur. "I heard your girl chatting with some wanker. They're going out on a date tonight. In case you're interested."

He smiles smugly before disappearing from Arthur's line of sight.

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Arthur finds Ariadne in her usual working space, the northeast corner of the warehouse which she claimed months ago. She's completely immersed in her work, designing a structural model of the second level of the dream they've planned for their next job.

He briefly pauses to examine her.

Her hair is tucked behind her ears, a scarf wrapped around her neck. As usual, she's dressed casually in cargo pants and a simple t-shirt. There isn't a touch of makeup on her face.

She's not the type of girl he's typically been attracted to (tall, blonde, and what most people would call 'high maintenance') but there's something about Ariadne that intrigued and drew him in from the very beginning. Since getting to know her, his interest has only intensified.

It's been three weeks since he returned from Italy. Thus far, she's been actively avoiding him outside of work, speaking to him only when necessary. He knows it's his fault – he shouldn't have taunted her about his date – but he couldn't help it. Few days before he left, he found out Ariadne's father was coming to Paris for a visit. When Arthur offered to take them out to dinner, Ariadne made it abundantly clear she had no plans to introduce Arthur to her father. When he pushed her for a reason, she reminded him they were supposed to be casual – family introductions were not part of the deal. It was then Arthur realized she really did think of him as just a fuck – she definitely wasn't interested in pursuing anything more with him.

Relationships have never been his thing until now; unfortunately, Ariadne has no interest in it. The irony isn't lost on him.

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Ariadne is keenly aware of his presence the moment he enters her workspace. He's standing a few feet away, his hands tucked into his pockets, watching her intently. The heat of his gaze slowly caresses over her body, making her stomach flutter with excitement. He doesn't merely stare, he inhales her in. It's this very look of his that made her grab him one night while they were working late and kiss him for the first time. She couldn't stand the anticipation anymore and desperately needed to know what it felt like to touch him. The kiss - a real one, nothing like the chaste peck they shared in dream space - led to sex which led to months of fun until he decided she was no longer enough. As angry as she is with him though, she's even more upset with herself. It's inevitable he would hurt her but _she _was the one who fucked up by falling in love.

"The model looks good," Arthur says, finally breaking the silence between them.

"Thanks."

He draws closer until he's standing right next to her; she pretends not to notice his proximity and keeps working.

"Want to grab some dinner tonight? I know this great new place you'll love. It has a golden arch at the front and supposedly the best fries in the world."

She can't help but smile. "You don't eat food from McDonalds."

"I'll make an exception this time," he whispers in her ear from behind.

Every nerve in her body is suddenly and acutely aware of him. His breath hums against her skin, his arms just barely grazing hers but the sensation is as potent as his naked skin wrapped around her, and she fights the instinctive urge to turn around and kiss him. "I can't," she says, surprised by the calmness of her own voice. "I'm busy."

"Take the night off. Your boss doesn't mind."

"Thanks, _boss_, but I have plans already."

"What kind of plans?"

"The kind that's none of your business," she snaps back.

"You have a date."

She remains silent.

"You owe me the truth, Ariadne."

The arrogance of his demand makes her forget all about her resolve to stay calm. Furious, she whirls around to confront him. "I don't owe you _anything_. We agreed we'd end this once it stopped being fun."

"Maybe I'm not ready for it to end."

"It's not up to you."

The amused glint in his eyes dissipates leaving in its place fiery rage. She's seen him angry before, usually when they're on a job and something goes wrong, but he's always managed to reel his temper in quickly and take control of the situation. It's one of the qualities she's always admired about him - except now he's the farthest thing from calm and controlled.

"If you're trying to piss me off, it's working."

"I don't really care," she fires back.

He advances towards her, catching her by surprise, until she's forced to back up against the desk behind her. His jaw is clenched, his body tense; one wrong move and he's set to explode.

"I'm not someone for you to play with on a whim," he snarls, vitriol filling his voice. "I may have let you fuck with my head before, Ariadne, but it stops now."

She tries to walk past him but he blocks her attempt, standing firmly in her way.

"What do you want, Arthur?"

"Answers. Are you seeing someone?"

"Aren't you?"

"Not anymore."

"Tired of her already?"

"I don't want her. She's not you."

Ariadne glares at him mockingly. "Oh, is that supposed to sweep me off my feet?"

"It's the truth."

His earnest response sets her heart racing but she refuses to believe him. She can't. She won't. "Let me guess. The sex wasn't great."

"I wouldn't know. I didn't fuck her." He steps forward, cradling her face in his hands. "I haven't fucked anyone else since we hooked up. I don't want to."

She knows he's being honest, she believes him, and it dawns on her how badly she's screwed up. Forcing down the lump in her throat, she nudges his hands away. "Let me go, Arthur."

"I'm not lying."

"I know, but I have to go. _Please_." Maybe it's the urgency in her voice, or the desperation she's no longer able to hide, but he complies with her request and moves back.

Ariadne runs out of there as fast as she can.

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The nearly empty bottle of wine sits in front of Ariadne. She eyes it, contemplates finishing it off, but hesitates at the thought of a hangover. Then again, she's going to suffer tomorrow anyway so what's the point in not indulging herself tonight? Grabbing the bottle, she pours the rest of the wine into her glass.

There is a knock on the door; she glances at the clock to see what time it is. It's almost midnight and she isn't expecting any company. Tightening her robe around her waist, Ariadne walks to the door and opens it. Arthur waits for her on the other side, his forehead burrowed with concern. "What are you doing here?"

"Why aren't you answering your phone?"

"Because I don't want to."

"I was worried."

"Yeah well, I'm fine," Ariadne says. "You can leave now."

"I'm not going anywhere. Might as well let me in."

She debates letting him stand out in the hallway. Knowing his stubborn streak though, he would stay out there all night and probably insist on having a conversation through the closed door. She has no choice but to concede. Opening the door, she allows him in.

"I thought you had a date tonight."

Ariadne shrugs her shoulders. "I cancelled." She walks back into her living room, Arthur follows behind her.

"Good."

Ignoring the smugness in his voice, she sits down on the couch and picks up her glass of wine.

He observes her for several minutes, casting worried looks in her direction which she promptly ignores. Eventually, he grabs the glass from her hand and sets it down on the table.

"What's wrong?" he asks, kneeling down in front of her.

She's careful not to lock eyes with him. "Nothing."

"Tell me what's going on."

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"I'm tired of playing games, Ariadne. I'm done with them."

His fingers lace through her hair, tucking a few strands behind her ears. The tenderness of his gaze makes her feel even worse. Her heart's pounding in her chest, ready to implode and shatter into a thousand pieces.

"I don't want to hear anymore about this casual bullshit. I want more than that with you."

"Maybe that's not what I want," she says, finally looking at him.

He doesn't respond, he doesn't have to. Instead his mouth closes over hers, and he kisses her with such desperation it makes her stomach clench. There is an urgency to his actions that matches her own, almost as if he realizes this thing between them is going to end any moment now and he's trying to hold on to the last remaining fragments of it – like she is.

By the time he finally pulls away, she's panting for air, her robe is open. She slid off the couch and is now on the floor with Arthur's body partially covering hers. Tracing the curve of her lips with his index finger, he grins down at her. "What were you saying?"

"I have to tell you something," she whispers.

He peppers her neck with soft, wet kisses, tracing a pattern down to her breasts. "What?" he murmurs.

"I slept with someone else."

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At first he thinks she's teasing him. It's what she usually does when she's trying to avoid a serious discussion. He's used to this. But the raw anguish evident in her voice quickly registers in his brain and he realizes she isn't lying.

He looms over her, looking down at her face. Her eyes are hollow, her body stiff. She's staring up at him but there's no emotion in her gaze.

She fucked someone else.

Ariadne fucked someone else.

_His _Ariadne.

Cold rage fills him from the inside, he has no idea what he's supposed to do. He quickly pulls away from her, moving far away so he no longer has to touch her. She sits up, calm and rational, tying her robe together. His insides are ready to rupture , he's experiencing a thousand different emotions simultaneously, but her face is completely devoid of any such feelings.

He wants to shake her out of her apathy; he wants to hurt her until she bleeds. He wants to make her cry. He wants to cut her.

"Who was it?"

He's a masochist. He needs to know all the details.

"You don't know him."

"When?"

She doesn't respond.

"_When _did you fuck him?"

"After you told me you were seeing someone," she responds blankly.

He couldn't sleep with Claire, the girl he picked up in a bar just before he left for Italy, because he was overwrought with guilt at the idea of betraying Ariadne. He sincerely believed the casual bullshit Ariadne clung to was just that – bullshit. It was a front for what she actually wanted – him, and only him – but she was too damn scared to vocalize it. Apparently, he overestimated her feelings for him.

Ariadne suffered no qualms about fucking someone else.

He stares at her, watching her with a level of hatred and disgust he never thought himself capable of. Ariadne, the girl he thought he loved, was temperamental, complex – nothing like this empty person sitting in front of him. When it came to others, her emotions were always close to the surface. She fought like hell for Cobb on the Fischer job, she was fiercely loyal to everyone on their team, but she never made any such demonstrations when it came to _him_.

She always kept him at arm's length, only sharing her body and never a part of her soul.

Did he ever really know her?

Did she feel _anything _for him?

Was everything they shared all in his head?

He sinks into the couch, still staring at her, still watching her.

Still hating her.

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After hours of interrogating her about the guy she slept with, Arthur finally leaves just before dawn.

"Once this job is done, I want you gone."

He slams the door shut and walks out.

Ariadne remains seated on the sofa, stoic but haunted by the questions he threw at her.

_"Where?"_

_"When?"_

_"How many times?"_

_"Did you come?"_

_"Did you like it?"_

She doesn't cry, she doesn't break down. There are no tears shed for what could have been.

She gets up and goes to bed.

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_Six months later_

Arthur spots Ariadne in the center of a crowd in the living room. Despite being surrounded by people, she looks absolutely alone. It's obvious to him she isn't paying attention to any of the conversations around her, but no one else seems to have noticed. He contemplates approaching her, then decides against it. Later. For now he just watches her, surprised she's still able to have this much of a physical effect on him.

When he caught his first glimpse of her during her father's memorial service, his chest tightened instantly. It was as if the distance between them was completely erased and he was right back to being madly in love with her.

Over the past few months he's kept himself busy with work, taking jobs no matter how little or big; there were women, lots of women, that he tried to find solace in but after he fucked them, he was right back to being miserable.

Time heals all wounds; the cliché has yet to hold true for him.

Then again, maybe he would recover quicker if he was able to avoid Ariadne completely. However, thanks to Eames who still kept in touch with her, Arthur was still privy to all the happenings in Ariadne's life. He dreaded the day Eames would share the news Ariadne was dating again, but at least he wouldn't have to worry about running into her. She lived in England now, worked for a new architectural company there, and Arthur was careful not to take any jobs that would require him to go to London.

He flew into Los Angeles the day after he heard about Ariadne's father passing away from a heart attack. Maybe he should have reconsidered attending the service, but he couldn't stay away. He needed to see Ariadne, make sure she was okay. In the church, while other family members spoke and paid tribute to her father, Ariadne kept quiet. She was stoic the entire time, and her demeanor reminded him entirely too much of their last conversation.

Suddenly, Ariadne breaks off from the crowd. As she exits the room, Arthur follows behind her and into the kitchen. Although there are several servers and a caterer mulling around, it's still considerably less occupied than the other rooms in the house. Arthur doesn't call her name until she's stopped in front of the kitchen counter, her back turned to him. "Ariadne."

She spins around, and the vacant mask on her face dissolves instantly. "Arthur." A small, grateful smile curves across her face. "How did you know-"

"Eames." Approaching her hesitantly, he contemplates how fragile she looks. Despite her petite form he's used to thinking of her as larger than life, a hurricane full of energy, wit and wisdom that entered his life and left him in pieces in its wake. But standing in front of her now, his heart aches at how vulnerable she appears.

He's surprised and not all prepared when she wraps her arms around him and leans into him for support. The subtle scent of her lavender shampoo fills his nostrils and he inhales her in, digging his fingers into her back. _Fuck!_ He misses her.

He's not sure how long they remain in each other's embrace, but she's the first one to let go.

"Have you eaten anything?" he asks, remembering how easily she forgot all about food when she was preoccupied with something.

She shakes her head 'no'.

"Wait here. I'll get you a plate."

Short while later, he returns with a plate full of food and hands it to her. "You're going to eat all of that."

"I see something hasn't changed. You're still bossy."

He smirks.

"I hope your new architect doesn't mind it as much as I did."

"He intimidates easily. It's really irritating."

"Eames finds it hilarious."

"That's because Eames treats him like a personal slave."

Ariadne laughs, and the pleasant sound catches him by surprise. Out of habit, and without realising what he's doing, he reaches out to stroke her hair. Instantly, the air is thick with tension between them, and he's intensely aware of the longing in her gaze. He drops his hand. "Eat," he orders. "You look like you're ready to fall over."

"I'm exhausted."

"Maybe you should rest for a bit."

"And leave the vultures here to gossip about what a horrible daughter I am? Bet they'd love that."

He's genuinely surprised by the harshness of her words.

"I hate these people," she confesses quietly. "I wish I could kick them out."

"I assumed most of them were family."

"They are," she smiles sadly. "I'm going to go upstairs for a bit. I need to regain my energy before I deal with these people again."

"Make sure you finish that plate."

"Yeah, yeah," she grins. "Don't leave without saying goodbye, okay?"

He nods his head 'yes'.

It isn't until she leaves his side that Arthur realizes that at no point of their conversation was he bombarded with thoughts and images of Ariadne fucking someone else. There was a time when that was the only thing he could focus on, everything about her paled in comparison to the betrayal he felt. But not today.

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Several hours later, Arthur finds her in one of the bedrooms on the third floor. Her father's house – well, a mansion to be more accurate – had several bedrooms and it took him a few tries before he finally located her.

"Ariadne?"

Approaching her, he realizes she's not sleeping. She's lying in bed, wide awake and staring up at the ceiling.

"Everyone left," he says, standing by the foot of the bed. "You can come down now."

"They were gossiping about me, weren't they?"

He doesn't have the heart to tell her she's right. Maybe it's because he was too focused on Ariadne earlier to notice the hostility between her and the rest of the family, but during the last few hours it became abundantly clear they relished chastising her. They seemed absolutely ecstatic that she'd disappeared from the wake, hence giving them free reign to talk about her. He didn't know any of these people but even he breathed a sigh of relief when they finally left. "I didn't notice," he lies. "I was busy cleaning up."

"You didn't have to do that."

"I know."

"I'm sorry I left you there by yourself."

"Don't worry about me. I'm a big boy."

She doesn't respond.

Arthur stands close, observes her with concern. She appears to want to tell him something, but can't bring herself to do it.

"I hated my father." Ariadne finally looks at him. "You must think I'm horrible for saying that."

"No, I'm just surprised."

She doesn't speak again for several minutes. Arthur flops down on the bed beside her.

"Everyone thought he was this incredibly nice guy, charming and funny. But he wasn't... he wasn't nice at all. He was mean... and cruel... and I hated him so much."

Arthur takes her hand in his; she's trembling.

"Did I ever tell you my mother killed herself?" she asks.

"No, but it came up in the research I did before Cobb hired you."

"She swallowed a bunch of pills my junior year in high school and that was that."

"I'm sorry."

Ariadne shrugs her shoulders. ""He drove her to it. He made her life hell. He hit her, abused her..."

"Didn't anybody notice?"

"He was careful never to leave a mark."

"Why didn't she get help?"

"Because she loved him," Ariadne snickers. "Can you believe that? Even after everything he did, all the times he hit her and told her she was pathetic and worthless, she still loved him. She only committed suicide because she found out he was cheating."

He squeezes her hand; the gesture is as much for himself as it is for her. He feels sick to his stomach knowing he sat through a ceremony where people gushed nonstop about the kindness and generosity of Ariadne's father; he can't even begin to imagine how _she _must have felt.

A horrible thought suddenly occurs to him. "Did he ever hurt you?"

She doesn't say anything for the longest time. He tries to be patient, to not push her for an answer, but the idea of anyone abusing Ariadne fills him with such dread and fury he's ready to implode.

"Yes."

He's never felt such rage and helplessness; he has no idea what to do. So he slides his one arm underneath her and pulls her closer, holding her, because he wants to comfort her and touching her is the only thing that makes him feel like he can control the explosive emotions inside.

"When I was in grade six, I told my teacher. She called my dad. He came to the school, flirted with her, made her laugh, and he wrote a big cheque. By the end she believed I lied because he wouldn't buy me some toy and that was my way of lashing out."

Arthur clings to her tightly.

"I never wanted you to meet him," she confesses.

"If he wasn't dead already, I'd kill him myself," Arthur grits out.

"I couldn't stand it if you liked him. I mean, he could be really charming and manipulative, and everyone loved him because of it... but if you liked him... if his act worked on you, I..."

"I'm glad I never met him."

"Me too."

They lie there for a long time, silent, with Arthur occasionally grazing her forehead. He thinks maybe he should say something to offer her some solace, but he doesn't know if there's anything he can do to make her feel better.

"Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you for a favour?"

"Anything."

"Will you stay here with me tonight?"

He's surprised by her request. Throughout their relationship, they never once actually slept together. It was one of the rules she used to insist on that drove him nuts.

"Unless you're seeing someone," she quickly adds, flustered. "If you are, then don't worry about it. I shouldn't have asked."

"There isn't anyone else. Only you."

She gazes up at him, her brown eyes brimming with emotion, and a smile so bright it makes him ache just to look at her. Leaning over, he kisses her softly.

This is dangerous territory for him. She could break his heart, leave him destitute and broken all over again. But he doesn't care.

He loves her. And even though she hasn't said the words, he knows without a doubt she loves him.

And that's enough for him.

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The glare from the morning sun wakes her up.

At first she's confused about the bare arm that's wrapped around her waist, and the hard body breathing peacefully behind her. Then she remembers.

Arthur.

Turning over, she studies him as he sleeps.

For as long as Ariadne can remember, she's been afraid to truly love someone. She didn't want to share her mother's fate.

With Arthur, she fought her feelings with everything she had and as hard as she could. It wasn't until things had absolutely shattered between them that night that Ariadne realized Arthur was nothing like her father. Even at his worst, when he had every right to lash out at her, he wasn't cruel.

She traces the curve of his face with her index finger, laughing out loud when he tries to bite her finger. "Good morning," she whispers.

He gives her a lazy smile, one that's infused with love and warmth. "You know you snore, right?"

She laughs.

Arthur makes her feel safe, incredibly safe, something she's never felt before. "I love you."

He responds with the goofiest, happiest grin in the world.


End file.
